You Are
by valentine999
Summary: Ptolemy's forgotten love story. PtolemyxOC. Please review!
1. Chapter 1

Hello, I wanted to write about Ptolemy because I don't think he gets enough attention. I lie. Just like him. He's about seventeen in this fic. Enjoy!

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The sun had set hours ago over Egypt, and now Alexandria was drifting in the twilight hours, waiting for the moonrise. The young prince was sat upon the rooftop of his chamber, enjoying the lamplight and silence that helped him study late into the night. Recently, since an incident involving a bull, the boy had found hardly any time during the day to get his work done, for he was being forever hounded by citizens of the city, hoping he could help them in some way. Anyone looking up now would see him sat, supposedly by himself, his slender arms holding the papyrus he was reading from, legs crossed and a frown on his face as he tried to understand his own frenzied scribbling. A few hours ago as they sun had been setting and people were making there way home, he was forced to retreat into his chambers after the noise of the gathering girls beneath him grew too loud. But now he was sat by himself, at least to the average eye he was by himself.

"Rekhyt, explain to me your concept of time again." He said quietly and as he spoke a bird, blue feathers with magnificent white plumage, glided down to sit with him.

"I explained it twice," but the bird was silent as Ptolemy looked at him with a stern glance, "you constantly ask these questions but may I ask you one?" Ptolemy did not look up from his work but nodded.

"Why does that girl cover her face?" The bird extended a wing to indicate some place below them, Ptolemy took a moment to look up and saw a girl a little way away. She wore a hooded cloak which surprised him due to the heat of the city; she used a hand to pull the hood over her face to cover it, glancing behind her every now and then as though ensuring she was not being followed. Ptolemy shrugged and went back to his work.

"Perhaps the same reason you Djinni do?" He said quickly before changing subject, "now time, is it relative to space as-"

"But why is that?" Rekhyt wasn't listening, still watching the girl with, as much as any bird could, a look of interest on his features.

"Perhaps she has something others want; she is desirable in some way?" The prince had never been good at subjects like this and was growing weary with his servant. "Now come and-"

"What would that be?" The bird wondered out loud and knew Ptolemy was not going to be angry with his wonderings; just as much as the boy was trying to understand the Djinni's world, Bartimaeus was trying to understand his. Ptolemy put down his papyrus and picked up his drink.

"Maybe she is a lost moonbeam-"

"Very desirable," the Djinni agreed sarcastically, still finding his master's thoughts strange for a human.

"Maybe she is a delicacy not found on this Earth," Rekhyt watched as the prince stood up to watch the girl make her way through the streets; smirking slightly as she glanced over her shoulder every so often. "Some angel perhaps?" From beneath the hood Ptolemy could see dark waves of hair that caught the starlight, "She is captivating, she is enchanting…" Rekhyt raised a metaphorical eyebrow as he'd never seen his master become so entranced; sure he had appreciated poetic words but he was never one himself. The girl turned around in the street just below them and a harsh wind blew, "or perhaps," her hood was blown away to reveal her face, "some gift from the heavens?" He gasped; never before had he seen someone so lovely, in the starlight he could not make out her exact features but her slim figure, darkened skin, dark hair and shining eyes were enough to entice him.

"Ok, I guess I see why she'd be desirable," Rekhyt whispered into his master's ear and the boy jumped out of his trance.

"Rekhyt, you scared me!" He said before glancing down the street again. "Oh," Ptolemy understood why the girl was running now; she was being pursued by a man, running almost as fast as she could but he was clumsy, perhaps he'd been drinking. "We have to help her," he whispered to his servant who shook his head. "Rekhyt!"

"You're the one who wants to stop helping people," the Djinni said in a dangerous whisper.

"This is different." The young prince was naïve to the ways of politics; he bent to the desires of his people, to the desires of his heart, rather than what was politically correct. Servant and master looked at each other for a moment before Ptolemy went back into his chamber's and walked down the stairs and the bird flew into the street to follow the girl. She was difficult to follow; she knew the side streets of the city well and ran fast through them, she lost the man in a few minutes and Bartimaeus hung back with her in an alley to ensure she was safe. Upon hearing him land on the roof above her she looked up with terrified eyes and he was surprised to see that they were bright green; unusual for Egyptian girls in the city. When she was sure no one was above her she walked to the wall opposite her and pushed the wooden doors open. The bird sat on the roof for a few minutes to ensure nothing happened and was about to move away when he saw some other hooded figure walk into the alley. He recognised him easily; the slender figure, girlish arms and handsome face. Ptolemy walked in after the girl as the bird gestured her direction.

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Ptolemy walked into what seemed to be an empty temple, empty of course apart form the girl who was knelt in front of the statue of a God. Her hood had fallen from her head as she bowed to him, her long dark hair reached the floor even though her head was tilted forwards. Ptolemy had recently come away from religion as he and Rekhyt had discussed and evaluated it, he found he had no need for it anymore. He leant against a pillar behind her and watched her pray silently. Wondering if he should do what he was thinking; it was cruel but perhaps she was intelligent enough to dispel religion.

"Why do you pray?" He asked and she opened her eyes, wondering if it was the statue that spoke.

"Who speaks?" She asked and he smiled as her voice was not like a child's how he thought it would be, but rich and delicate in tone.

"It is I," he tried not to laugh as he teased her, "the one you are speaking with."

"No God speaks so directly," she said and closed her eyes quickly. Ptolemy raised an eyebrow; did this girl actually think the God, this statue, was talking to her? Perhaps all the incense in the temple had made her mind bend.

"I speak however I wish," he scolded her and walked closer to her.

"Yes," she whispered, "that's evident."

"How so?" He was only a few feet behind her and she smiled.

"Although you are in front of me, your voice echoes from behind." She pointed behind her and Ptolemy now knew it was her who was teasing him. There was a moment where the prince had to think of something to say but found his wit would not lend itself to him now. "Spying on a woman as she is praying is shameful." She said with distaste but he could hear in her voice she was only mocking him.

"Forgive me." He said and bowed an apology even though she could not see him.

"You should ask the God for forgiveness," she said and picked up a tray from in front of her, it was covered in flowers and candles, "not-" She turned around and upon seeing his face she dropped the tray. With a wave of the boy's had a gust of wind issued from the doors behind him and ensured that the tray landed lightly. She gasped at what she could only call magic and then looked back at the boy before bowing, "your highness, forgive me," she spoke quickly, "I did not know it was you." He watched her for a moment and his previous judgement was confirmed; she was very desirable, her bright green eyes and tanned skin were probably envied by many in the district. He realised she was still bowing.

"You bow to a God and to me?" He asked and walked round her to the statue, "a little hypocritical wouldn't you say?" She smiled at him and shook her head. She's heard of Ptolemy, nephew of the King, he was as handsome as the rumours had said.

"We look to our king for help," she said back to him, "and when he can offer none we rely on the Gods."

"We?" He looked at her sharply.

"Those who are unable to afford such luxuries as advisors, your highness." She said and avoided his eye as he probed her. He nodded at her; so she was of a normal family in Egypt, perhaps land owners, the clothes she was wearing looked as if they had fetched a fine price. "if your highness has asked me all he wants to, I must go." She said, bowed quickly and lifted her skirt before walking out. Ptolemy followed her.

"Will you let me walk you home?" He asked her and smiled as he saw her blush.

"If you'd like to." She shrugged and he took a place next to her. They walked in silence for about ten minutes, every now and then they'd notice the other one staring before looking away and blushing. "Is it alright for his highness to be out late, unaccompanied?" Ptolemy looked up to the night sky and on a backdrop of stars saw a bird with blue feathers glide by.

"Oh, I'm sure I'll be fine." He said with a slight laugh. He had continued to walk but realised she had stopped walking and he turned to her. She nodded towards a dark blue painted building with a smile, indicating this was her stop. "Oh," he said and they both smiled at each other.

"Well," she said and took a step towards her door. "Goodnight, Prince Ptolemy," she whispered and was about to walk in when his hand touched her arm.

"Will I see you again?" He asked her and she shrugged.

"Probably not." She whispered back.

"Why not?" he pleaded with her and she gasped at his actions.

"Why not?" She laughed, "because you are a prince and I am," she searched for the right word, "not. It's improper." She laughed as he raised an eyebrow; Ptolemy had never been one to care for rules and regulations in his life. "And you don't even know my name!" She said frantically trying to get out of the situation; if anyone saw her with a boy, let alone a prince, she'd be in trouble with her family. Especially her father.

"Tell me it then," he said quickly and she shook her head, trying to walk into the house but he was holding onto her hand tightly. "Ok," she stopped to listen to his idea, "if I guess your name in five seconds then you meet me again; by the temple, at sunset tomorrow." She thought about it for a moment before nodding. "You count," she held up her hand to indicate five seconds with her fingers.

"Nefertari?" He said and she laughed **(1)**, before putting one finger down, he stuttered and she put another down, three seconds left. "Amisi?" he said, she shook her head, put a finger down. Two seconds to go. "Femi?" No. One second.

"Layla?!" Someone shouted from above and she looked up.

"Layla?" He whispered, "That's your name?" She tried not to smile as she looked up at the woman who was looking out of her window.

"Yes." She said to both of them.

"Get inside now!" The woman shouted, "have you lost all sense; what time do you call this girl?!" And so the woman continued to mutter and curse at the girl who bowed at her prince and went inside. As she passed him he whispered to her.

"At sunset." He said and walked away. Unaware that, apart from the bird flying high in the stars above him, the young prince was being watched.

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**(1) **The name means _the most beautiful. _Layla laughs because it's evidently what Ptolemy thinks of her.

Yeah so, that's chapter one, _**please review**_! Depending on feedback I may or may not write more!


	2. Chapter 2

The first rays of sunshine entered Layla's bedroom as she woke up, blinking from the intensity of the light. Golden light illuminated the dark blue walls of her room, before highlighting the white drapes around her bed. As the light chased the darkness from her room and warmth came to her she breathed in deeply, reminiscing about her dreams. She didn't sit up just yet, she wanted to wait for the fatigue to wear off, Tahira was right; she'd come home awfully late but it wasn't her fault she was pursued. It wasn't her fault a Prince had come to speak with her, had asked to see her again. At the thought of last night's incident she buried her face in her blankets and smiled to herself.

"Qetesh, it's time to get up." **(1) **A sarcastic voice issued form the foot of her bed and upon hearing the voice of her servant Layla sat up but when she saw the anger on Tahira's face she couldn't help but smile. "Do not smirk at me; I had to tell your father you were on an errand for me last night." Layla nodded her gratitude and fell back onto her pillows. "But you weren't." The woman, almost twice Layla's age, walked over to the girl's bedside and sat down next to her. Layla wasn't looking at her; she was lost in thought about something else, fingering a chain around her neck that she'd been given as a child. "Layla," the woman stroked her long dark hair and was soon concerned that Layla wasn't responding. "Where were you last night?" When Layla heard the question she sat up quickly and glanced around her room.

"Where's my father?" She asked and held on to her servant's hands tightly, the woman was flustered for a moment. "Tahira!" Layla urged her and the woman seemed to come to her senses.

"Downstairs," she said with equal urgency, "in a meeting with-" but she stopped and watched as the girl jumped from her bed, went to her bedroom doors and, after a quick glance outside, shut the doors. She came back to Tahira who jumped in surprise as Layla jumped on the bed and took her hands once more.

"You will keep my secret?" Layla asked and it was the first time in a very long time that Tahira had seen Layla excited, or happy.

"Goodness, child, what is it that has you so afflicted?" Tahira laughed as Layla smiled brightly at her, holding her on the verge of insanity for not telling her. "Layla, tell me!" The woman urged and Layla put her hands to her mouth and pursed her lips like a child does when about to tell a secret.

"Last night I did not come back alone," Layla teased; wanting to give the woman only half the story. The woman nodded and Layla held her breath, "did you see who I was with?" Layla started laughing at the mere thought of it and the woman shook her head. Layla beckoned her close and bent down to her ear. "You know of the cousin of the prince?" The woman put a hand to her mouth and gasped.

"You're lying," but Layla shook her head. "The one who shares his name with the King's son?" Layla nodded and laughed again.

"Ptolemy," she whispered and got up from her bed quickly and ran into her other room as though not wanting to see her maid's reaction. Tahira sat, dumfounded still, on Layla's bed. She heard the rush of water into the girl's chamber and walked into her other room where a stone fountain was the only object. Layla was hid behind it, staring through the window with a lazy smile. A tree grew against a wall of their house and leant shade to this room; it often meant birdsong could be heard in Layla's chambers. The girl was humming along for she had heard the song often enough.

"Layla," her maid said quietly as she approached the girl but it seemed she was in her own world. "That's very dangerous." Layla raised an eyebrow but did not look at the woman; she put her hands in the water of the fountain. Rose petals on top of the water drifted into her hands and she blew them away softly.

"Oh?" She said almost dreamily.

"If your father finds out-" But Tahira was silent as Layla took her hands out of the fountain so violently water hit the walls of the small room. "Layla!"

"I am fed up of running my life by him," she said scathingly and wiped her hands on a hanging cloth. Tahira sighed; Layla had always been forced to live by her father's rules and she'd always wondered when she was going to rebel.

"You have to;" the woman said indifferently, "Layla your father is close to regaining acknowledgement of the royal family. Because of your mother we lost everything," her voice faltered as Layla looked at her; Layla's father forbade them from ever mentioning her mother. "And he is in meetings now with advisors and-"

"Members of court and priests and potential suitors," Layla finished her sentence for her. "I have heard this for two years now," she sighed and sat on the window ledge. "And I see no change," she said sternly, "Tahi," Layla said lovingly and the woman sighed as she realised the girl was going to emotionally blackmail her. "Please don't tell him," She pleaded and embraced the woman, "please let me do this-"

"Do what?" Tahira asked and dreaded the answer.

"I'm meeting the prince later-"

"Layla!"

"For a moment," Layla said quickly, "only a moment." She sighed in that way girls do when besotted, she slinked away and into her bedroom again. "One wish is all I have ever had," Layla said softly, "in all my life, to find something wonderful like this." She swayed as though to unheard music. Tahira shook her head.

"After one meeting you are so fixated?" The woman asked and layla turned to her with saddened eyes. "If your father finds out-"

"I know, I know," Layla said and opened the doors to her room once more to let the sunshine spill in. "He'll kill me."

"Worse," Tahira said and walked after the girl who looked back at her, "he'll get you married." Both women laughed.

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"Prince Ptolemy," a voice sounded from beside him but he didn't stir, he was still tired from last night, upon coming back to his quarters of the palace he and his Djinni had worked late into the night. "Ra brings the sun to wake you up, that did not work, so your uncle sends me." His fatigue left him immediately and he sat up.

"My uncle?" He shook his head to get rid of the feeling in his head and when he opened his eyes the female servant threw his tunic at him.

"Yes," she said before turning away from him, "put your clothes on and meet him in the courtyards," Ptolemy ran a hand through his hair and glanced at the sun outside, judging from it's position it meant it was almost midday. He cursed softly; he'd overslept.

"Rehkyt?" He spoke the single word and a priest materialised in front of him. He was balding, sweating, looked out of place in his robes and uneasy as though fearful of prying eyes. Ptolemy smiled; he had perfected this guise.

"Yes, your highness?" The monk lowered his gaze modestly as Ptolemy stood up and threw his tunic on.

"What news from the gate?" Ptolemy asked quickly before going over to his table where a jug of water and bowl were. He proceeded to wash his face and hands as the monk followed him and thought back to his mission this morning.

"None."

"None?!" Ptolemy was shocked; recently the queue outside his quarters had been growing until the streets were filled, but this morning there was none?

"They have all heard your uncle wishes to speak with you." Rehkyt passed the boy a cloth to dry himself with before following the boy out of his quarters. They walked into the Egyptian sunshine and could already see the small archway in a wall they were to enter in to.

"I too have heard that." He said quickly, Ptolemy was worried now. He was generally ignored by the rest of the royal household, they left him to his studies and he left them to their wars. But now the King was summoning him, it could only mean a few things. He walked swiftly with Bartimaeus at his side; the monk held some books in his arms. "What are they?" He asked and the man shrugged.

"An excuse." Ptolemy smiled at his servant before stepping into the courtyard. They had not got very far when they heard a shout from the other side of the courtyard.

"Cousin!" Ptolemy and his servant turned to the sound of the prince's name. They both bowed as the son of the king walked towards them in his usual drunken swagger. Ptolemy scoffed, it wasn't the evening yet and his cousin had been drinking. The prince didn't walk alone, he had a mixed group surrounding him; some priests, some courtesans, some advisors and others Ptolemy guessed were entertaining him.

"Your highness," Ptolemy said in acknowledgement. "I hear your father wishes to speak with me…" He stopped speaking as his cousin held up a fat hand to signal him to silence. The fat prince nodded at his rival and stared at him; weighing him up, wondering how to tackle the situation.

"He wants your opinion on irrigation or something." A woman leant forwards and whispered something in to the prince who smiled stupidly. "Where were you last night cousin?" He sneered and Ptolemy shrugged.

"Studying."

"Outside the temple of Nefertem?" The group in front of Ptolemy and Rehkyt laughed quietly and both of them glanced at each other quickly. "My servant saw you, conversing with a commoner-"

"My personal affairs are none of your servants or your concern." Ptolemy said quickly, "now where is your father?" But the prince wasn't giving up so soon.

"Dangerous ground for you cousin," the prince moved forwards so he was only a foot away from his rival. "First talk of magic comes your way and now a girl outside the palace?" Suddenly Ptolemy seemed to grow in size, a harsh wind began to blow around the courtyard and as the temperature around the group dropped, Ptolemy took a step closer to his cousin who seemed to shrink away.

"_My personal affairs are none of your concern." _Ptolemy whispered dangerously, Rehkyt noticed that as Ptolemy clenched his fist sparks snapped at his fingertips. "You will stay away from anyone I converse with, in or outside of these walls." He took a step away from the cowering prince and the Egyptian warmth returned to the air; the dark cloud that seemed to suppress the courtyard was lifted. "If that is all, I must see to your father." Ptolemy walked away, and as he did the Prince regained his composure and narrowed his eyes; he was not finished yet. He beckoned someone over to him and a man in a dark cloak took a step forwards.

"Follow him."

* * *

"I hear of an anomic group forming in the west," Layla's father spoke to her quietly over dinner but she wasn't listening, she stared down at her bowl, wishing time to pass so she could leave. She looked out of the window and gasped as she saw the sun was setting already; she needed to finish her conversation quickly.

"I hear there's talk of rebellion from that coast also," she said quickly and stood up, "forgive me but I must go now." Her father did not need to do or say anything, he merely looked at her and she sat down again with a small sigh.

"You have somewhere you would rather be?" _Yes._

"No." She forced a smile and searched for a new topic of conversation to pretend she was interested. She'd always found it difficult to talk to her father, since the leaving of her mother he had distanced himself from Layla because she reminded him so much of her. Imaan, her father was a harsh, strict man who had lost everything and was once considered a noble man of the city. He intended to regain that and his daughter was the key to his success; in Egypt gold coins were not the only currency. "I hear your meeting today was successful?" She enquired before taking a sip of wine and as her green eyes appraised him, her father sat up straighter.

"I was discussing your appearance at the festival in three days-"

"Festival?" Layla was surprised but immediately regretted it as her father looked at her sharply; the amount of time she claimed to be "studying" meant she should know the lunar calendar well. She tried desperately to remember but had recently found that she'd lost affection for religious occasions. Her father nodded.

"The sighting of the new moon." He said and was pleased to see she was smiling; he hadn't let her out of the house as his daughter in a long time. "We have waited for you to turn into a young woman and," he gestured to her, "now that you are…" She glanced at him in a way her mother used to when shy and he sat up straight, suddenly business-like. "So that we could I expect you to hold and maintain the honour this house puts on to you." Her dad meant that she was representing him in public for the first time in a very long time. Layla nodded and tried to smile again but found she really didn't care very much. "I can see you want to leave," he sighed; he'd been hoping to talk to her about more important matters. "Go and study." He said and she stood up, as she was leaving the room he beckoned a man from the shadows behind him. The black cloaked figure stood by his side in an instant, "follow her."

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(1) Goddess of love and beauty. It's just a colloquial way of saying- you've had enough beauty sleep, get up!

And that is the last chapter I'm going to write for a very long time.

Please review, it's a shame I had to write a new story and then leave for like a year!


	3. Chapter 3

Hello! Haven't been here for a while! Enjoy!  


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Layla sighed. Stars shone in the heavens above her and candlelight seeped from the doors of the temple in front of her, bathing her in a golden light. But she was no longer held breathless by the beauty of the stars as she used to be because it only meant one thing; he was late. She should've known it was too good to be true…but she'd heard rumours that this Ptolemy was different to all the rest. He was kind and genuine, then why had he not shown up? Layla wiped her eyes hurriedly as the doors to the temple opened, the last of the worshippers came out and she smiled at them politely, greeting people she knew. They left her in the half-lit darkness. She twiddled with the stem of the flower in her hands, she had plucked it from a small garden near the bench she was sat on. She called it a garden but it was more a random assortment of flowers and bushes. She was about to stand up when she heard footsteps coming from down the alley and for a moment realised how vulnerable she was; a young girl on her own at night was not seen as fitting for someone of her upbringing. Out of the darkness his slim figure emerged and for a moment a smile flashed on her face before realising she was angry with him. She folded her arms and looked straight ahead, ignoring his gaze.

Ptolemy walked swiftly to the lone figure on the bench outside the temple and cursed his uncle for the hundredth time. He had kept him busy that day, consulting his opinion on everything; it was known Ptolemy was most learned in the royal household but conversing for eight hours was enough to make even _his _patience run out. It was practically as if Ptolemy was running the empire now! And what was his oaf of a cousin doin exact- Ptolemy stopped walking and as he did the thoughts went from his head. Layla was sat only two meters away and he could see she was angry. The sun had set two or three hours ago, making him incredibly late. Her arms were folded stiffly and she stared determinedly in front of her. He had to think fast, he'd witnessed his cousin stumble, when they had approached girls years ago.

"Be cool," a small beetle on his shoulder whispered.

"I know." He whispered back, realising the silence had stretched on for at least a minute.

"Be romantic," the beetle whispered again.

"I know." He repeated.

"Be witty…charming…charismatic-"

"I know!" He whispered more urgently, thinking hard. Layla sighed, perhaps the prince wasn't how she thought, a little mad perhaps; why was he talking to himself?

"The list could go on, I'm just trying to help you out!" The beetle said and turned away from the boy's ear in a huff.

"Try giving me ideas." He was still talking to himself and Layla began to think meeting him again was a bad idea. "What shall I say?" What should he say? Was he asking her? He had talked pretty loud but out of stubbornness she chose not to answer.

"OK, take a step forwards," as the beetle said this Ptolemy walked forwards, "and say-"

"What flowers are those?" Ptolemy repeated and immediately regretted it, Layla stared at him with her mouth open; why on earth was he asking after the weeds? Ptolemy shot an annoyed look to the bug on his shoulder and the beetle was too small to see any facial response.

"Do I look like the gardener?" Layla replied scathingly. Ptolemy rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

"No," he walked forwards and for some reason as she looked at him he found he knew what to say. "You look like the girl who stole the flower from the garden." He pointed to it in her hands and she merely rolled her eyes.

"And _you _are?" Ouch, that was a little harsh; Layla was pretending not to know him. Somehow Ptolemy preferred it when she just ignored him. He brushed hair away from his eyes and walked to lean against the wall opposite her; beside the temple doors.

"The boy who stole your heart." He suggested and she grimaced although something in her eyes told him she felt otherwise. He thought he heard a tiny snicker come from his shoulder and gently placed his hand there to wipe the bug away; it flew away. He sighed as Layla looked away from him and he went to sit on the bench, as far from her as he could. She gasped and looked over to him.

"Fool, you can see I am angry and yet you sit down?" She whispered in disbelief and Ptolemy smiled at her and turned his back to her before going to lay his head on her lap.

"Would you prefer it if I lay down?" Her hands jumped up as though not wanting to touch him.

"Has all sanity left you?" She whispered urgently, turning down to see down the alley way, "if someone sees!" She muttered and looked desperately through the darkness but Ptolemy could see she was blushing and trying to hide her embarrassment.

"We're in the cover of darkness," Ptolemy whispered back and was glad she looked down to him, he liked the colour of her eyes.

"That is not the point- you are a prince and I-"

"Am a thief," he said with a slight laugh and took the flower from her hand and placed it behind her ear. Layla tried very hard not to smile and gave him the coldest look she could muster.

"Could you please go?" She said and again looked around to make sure no one could see them.

"Of course," he sat up and turned to her, "not." Layla finally gave up with him.

"Do you have a problem I can help you with?" She asked and again she was treating him like a stranger. He shrugged.

"Directly no, but indirectly I do." He muttered and put on a look of distress to trick Layla; make her think he was going through some torment. Layla fell for it and turned to him quickly, for some reason it pained her to see distress mark his handsome features.

"What does that mean?" She asked.

"In three night's time the new moon will appear," he said and Layla began to feel he was making it up as he searched for the words to articulate his conundrum. "But I fear it will not come-"

"Why?" She leant forwards to listen to him speak as though it were the most wonderful news she had ever heard. Ptolemy laughed inwardly at her excitement.

"I fear it will shy away," he too leant in further so their faces were inches away and smiled as Layla's face screwed up in confusion. "It will because no one will recognise it's beauty." He said and Layla looked to the floor, trying to figure out what he meant.

"Why would they not; the moon has been renowned as the most beautiful light in the sky," she muttered.

"It will not come because in your presence its beauty is nothing." He said and Layla smiled for the first time in their meeting.

"Fool," she whispered to herself and found she couldn't look at him. Ptolemy leant close and blew a single strand of hair from her neck; Layla shivered as he did so and pushed him away. "You forget your place," she whispered but Ptolemy had stopped caring about that; him being a prince and her once being of aristocracy. They were meaningless labels put upon them by forces they did not know. "It is late. I must go." She stood up to leave and pulled her hood over her head.

"Not much of a goodbye," Ptolemy sniffed and Layla laughed.

"If you wanted a decent goodbye you should have come on time," she was about to move off when he grabbed her hand. "What kept you?" She added as an afterthought.

"My uncle needs my intelligence to run the empire," he muttered scathingly and pulled her into embrace. She was going to keep talking but her closeness to the prince kept her quiet. "Won't you stay with me 'til sunrise?" He asked and Layla was adamant as she pushed him away.

"Your highness," Ptolemy rolled his eyes; there she was again; reminding him of his title. "Do you realise what my father will do to me if he finds out we've met?" He had no idea but he knew he didn't want anything to hurt her. "He will marry me to whichever suitor has most influence on the King," she said and Ptolemy's eyes widened; was it really like that for girls like her? "Please," she said as she moved her hand from his grip.

"Then what am I supposed to do?" He said, suddenly angry with her. He dropped her arm and walked away.

"About what?" She looked on after him.

"I wish to meet with you but we cannot, so…" He sighed and turned back to her, "what's the point?" Layla lowered her gaze. "What was the point of this?" He almost shouted, making the girl jump. "You torture me by coming here and saying you cannot be mine." Layla sighed ashamedly.

"We are strangers," she said desperately trying to make him see the sense which she was pretending she believed in.

"Then why," he walked swiftly to her and held her face, "do I feel like I know all of you and you know all of me?"

"We are naïve." She shook her head at him but couldn't deny that she was feeling the same as him.

"We are wiser than any scholar or politician or healer," he moved closer to her again, "I know this." He whispered and leant his forehead against hers, Layla shut her eyes. "Why do you deny it to yourself?" He whispered and kissed her forehead.

"Please Ptolemy," she moved away from him, "speak no more of this." She said, tears entering her eyes. "I have been denied what I have wanted for years, as a prince I'm sure you always got you wished granted. But this is the way life is for me-"

"Then you are not living!" He shouted and grabbed her shoulders, "you live life by another person's rules, you have never followed your heart!" He shouted at her but was so frustrated he did not relent when tears escaped her beautiful eyes. "You think you will repeat the mistakes of your mother?" He whispered after a moment and Layla looked at him with fearful eyes, to scared of him to say anything.

"You know nothing of my mother-"

"Everyone knows!" he said, unsure why he was even bringing it up. Some strange feeling rose inside of him, a part of him wanted to hurt Layla, make her feel the pain he was feeling. "You fear they will say the same about you? Call you a whore?" He broke her, something inside her fizzled out. The drive that kept her angry left her.

"They call me whatever they wish," she whispered but Ptolemy could tell she wasn't really paying attention to what she was saying. He had stunned her, hurt her beyond what she thought he was capable of. "Let me go," she whispered with stilled tears in her eyes. Ptolemy obliged and as soon as he did she ran from him. Down the alley and away into the darkness.

* * *

"Tahi!" Layla said to the woman who was sat on a chair next to her bed. She stood and stared as the woman took in her fragile state and tear stained face. Layla ran to her and place her head in her lap. It saddened Tahira to the brink of tears to think heartbreak should hit Layla at such a young age. They didn't say anything to one another, a silent contract between them that Tahira was not allowed to question Layla's actions for fear of hurting the naïve girl.

"Layla!" The girl jumped as her father called her name from downstairs, she had climbed through her window and so did not see him. She looked up fearfully to Tahira who shrugged, unsure of what her father wanted. Layla stood up and walked to the top of the stairs as though reading to accept her death sentence.

"Father." She called back and began to walk down the stairs, looking into the room she knew her father sat in when the evenings came. She saw him sat there but he was not alone, as she walked into the room she gasped as she took in who their visitor was. He smiled at her with a greedy glint in his eyes. "Prince Ptolemy!" She said before bowing and looking back up to the cousin of her dearest Ptolemy.

* * *

Yeah, that really long! And the guys having the same name confuses me! Their conversation popped into my head and I had to write it down!

Please review!


	4. Chapter 4

Fast update eh?

* * *

"Layla," the prince spoke harshly to her and she tried very hard not to grimace as he approached her. Layla said nothing, just stared at him in silence; for the prince to be here unescorted could only mean a few things. Things that for Layla just meant trouble. There were a few moments of awkward silence and for reasons unknown to the arrogant prince, her father and even herself, Layla already detested the boy.

"Layla," her father prompted, "the prince is talking to you." He said patronizingly and Layla looked with such angered eyes to the boy that the prince actually recoiled.

"What brings his highness here at such a late hour?" She asked with fake sweetness.

"I wish to speak with you," he said plainly before sitting down, Layla followed suit and her father remained standing, looking between the two as though he had never seen anything so wonderful in his life.

"To speak," Layla gasped, "with me?" She was hardly important enough to be talked to by the royal family. The prince nodded eagerly and she could've sworn she saw him look to her father for confirmation to keep speaking.

"Your father and I have been talking," she shot a cold look at her father who seemed surprised by her reaction, "and I have come to ask you-"

"No!" She shouted and stood up from her chair.

"Layla!" Her father shouted and she looked downwards as she realised how rash she'd behaved. "Hold your tongue in front of our guest-"

"No, no," the prince waved a hand at her father as though dismissing his comment, "I assure you it is her fire that first caught my eye." He muttered under his breath and Layla looked disbelievingly at her father; surely he would not let anyone talk about her like that. But her father remained silent. "Listen to me Layla, I am merely asking your presence at my palace for the next few days; until the festival." He said and Layla looked from one man to the other; she hardly knew this prince and yet he was asking so much of her. "Dearest, can you tell me," he whispered as he came closer, "that you have never wished for a prince to take you away?" He smiled at her and for a moment Layla seemed lost, staring at a spot beyond him.

"I have," she said quietly but before he could respond she spoke again, "as of two days ago." The prince and her father looked at one another cautiously wondering what Layla was talking about. "Dearest," she looked to the prince now who seemed happy with her banter, "in my heartbeat his voice resonates. Can you tell me; if my heart beats 88 times a minute how many times in an hour does he call to me?" She asked and smirked as the prince began to mumble something about numbers, "5,280 times," she said. "And every day?" Again the prince stumbled on his words, "126,720 times." She sighed and was almost talking to herself as the prince muttered calculations. "For two days…253,440 times he asks me to join him." Her father and the prince could tell she had finished with her musings. In truth she knew the prince was ridiculously incompetent, with arithmetic, with language, with women; how could he possibly run an empire? And in the space of a few short seconds she had shown her father what a ridiculous excuse for a ruler that boy was; he couldn't even keep up with her. But Layla knew, from the way her father remained silent and kept smiling at the prince as though Layla was joking, that her father was not going to help her now. The prince shook his head and tapped Layla's shoulder to get her attention again.

"So long as you are not a thief," Layla looked up and him, "you may come."

"What?" She was referring to his comment about her being a thief; where had he got that from?

"Perhaps," the prince stood up and waddled over to her, "if I keep you captive the moon will feel safer to come out." He winked at her and now, the look in his eyes confirmed her fears, he knew of her meeting with Ptolemy. He knew what would happen if her father was told. She silently cursed; the prince was blackmailing her. "So," his hand reached out and touched her face and she was just reminded even more of Ptolemy's soft and warm skin against hers. "What is your answer?"

* * *

"That went well," Ptolemy jumped as his servant materialised behind his mirror. Rehkyt had taken the form of a young servant boy close to Ptolemy's age, he wore a white tunic, not as decorative as Ptolemy's to show the difference in status. The prince raised an eyebrow at his servant and shook his head.

"You were there?" Ptolemy glanced in the mirror one last time, taking in his darkened skin, dark after years of studying outside palace walls, the light brown eyes that he'd been complimented on by girls whose names he did not know. And those thin, girlish arms that he was mocked for; he was no a warrior that was certain.

"Yes," Rehkyt tried very hard not to laugh, "and you acted just like one does when besotted-"

"Oh," Ptolemy looked to Rehkyt now, "how is that?"

"Like a fool," Ptolemy blushed.

"And how did you find her?" The young prince asked before removing his tunic, throwing it on a nearby chair and walking away from the mirror.

"Terrified." The servant followed and stated his views plainly, but that was fine; Ptolemy was used to hearing his opinion like this.

"I had no idea," Ptolemy reached his bedroom window and looked across the kingdom, for his room was so high up in the palace he could see for miles, "she was so caged." It was well past midnight and he sighed as he realised he had done no work that day, he adjusted the cloth around his waist and looked up to find the moon's wide-eyed stare looking back at him. "Like the moon," he said suddenly realising, "so close to me but," he stretched out a hand and tried to reach the only light in the sky, "so far from me." Bartimaeus put a hand on the prince's shoulder.

"You change when with her," he observed, "you were never a poet, never romantic, girls throw themselves at you and you just walk past." Ptolemy laughed and Rehkyt leant closer, "and I suggest that if you're going to recite to an audience you should be clothed." Ptolemy's brown eyes snapped over to him in confusion.

"Audience?" Rehkyt pointed downwards and Ptolemy saw a group of gathering girls beneath his window. "Ah," he took a step backwards and closed the shutters to his window. "It is far past midnight, what're they-"

"Two days left 'til the new moon," Rehkyt said and walked to the Prince's chair before sitting on it in a huff; Ptolemy looked at him with scrutiny; why was he upset? "The city is hardly sleeping, they are preparing for the festival." Ptolemy, who wasn't really paying attention looked up as he said this.

"Festival?" He smiled, "do you think, Layla will be there?" Rehkyt looked his master up and down; a few days ago the boy merely seemed content with his studies now he was distracted which meant he and Ptolemy had not conversed on important matters for at least two days. But then, he had never seen such excitement in the young boy's face.

"I have no doubt," as Rehkyt answered he smiled as Ptolemy's face put on that expression that meant he was thinking hard. "What plan is this?" Ptolemy looked at him for a moment before running a hand wearily through his hair.

"I cannot think straight when I think of her!" He sighed.

"But you seemed to think pretty smoothly when she was around." Rehkyt smiled at Ptolemy who suddenly looked very tired. "So," Bartimaeus stood up and stretched his arms as he did his fingertips became slender, his skin darker and when he opened his eyes they were bright green. Ptolemy stood with an amused smile on his face and Layla soon stood before him. "Now can you think?" Ptolemy laughed at his friend's actions.

"Hardly," Ptolemy rolled his eyes, "especially when you walk like that." The prince observed as Rehkyt swayed his hips with such exaggeration that when he walked he nearly fell over. "She does not walk like that." The prince chuckled as Rehkyt walked past him with a stern look.

"You wouldn't say that to her," Rehkyt said also speaking in Layla's voice seductively.

"I-" Ptolemy stopped talking; his mouth went dry and the room suddenly became very hot as Layla's figure moved its arm in a certain way that made her dress fall off her shoulder. "That's just inappropriate," he said quickly and blushed as green eyes glanced over to him. She walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder, "Rehkyt-"

"So when you put your head in her lap its fine but when she touches you," Rehkyt laughed and Ptolemy just realised how much he loved her smile, "you shy away?" Ptolemy pushed him away with a laugh but then the laughter stopped as they heard a knock at the door. With a quick glance at one another Ptolemy walked swiftly to his door and Rehkyt transformed back into the servant boy. Upon opening the door Ptolemy was surprised to find his cousin's servant, Sabah, looking at him from the darkness. A candle in her hand illuminating her face. She had knocked on Ptolemy's door at night before but he had refused her every time; he thought she'd given up. "Sabah-"

"The son of the king wishes to speak with you." She said quickly, knowing all too well what the sceptical look on his face was. "Come to his quarters in a little while," she said and turned away. Ptolemy watched her for a moment, merely thinking about what she had said until she turned quickly to him, "oh, and you may want to put some clothes on." She smirked at him as he blushed.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later the prince, with a beetle again on his shoulder, was running through the palace to his cousin's quarters. Being called this late at night was never a good thing and with his cousin involved it was even worse. What could that incompetent fool want at this hour? Ptolemy had been so lost in his musings that he almost bumped into the doors that led to his cousin's first room. He waited for the doors to open and when they did he found himself looking at Sabah again, her eyes glanced him slowly up and down, unnerving him, before she moved aside for him to enter.

"Cousin!" He heard the shout from the other side of the room. At the end of a long table he was sat with a goblet of wine, but he was not alone.

"Layla?!" He heard a small voice on his shoulder shout; luckily the bug was so small its quiet voice could not be heard by those at the table.

"Come, come, sit, drink!" Ptolemy's cousin muttered while beckoning him over. "This," he pointed to her and Ptolemy saw as he came closer that Layla was not looking at him; she kept her eyes cast downwards in the modest, polite way girls were meant to, "is Layla." He stared at her in disbelief before looking to his cousin and back again wondering what was happening. His cousin kicked out a chair opposite Layla and Ptolemy sat down, he never took his eyes off of her until his cousin banged a chubby fist down on the table. "She is staying at the palace." There were a few seconds of awkward silence, "will you not say anything?" Ptolemy nodded slowly before taking the drink Sabah offered him.

"Why is it you are joining us?" He asked and Layla looked up to him slowly; he talked to her as if he didn't know her, at least he knew how to play this game. Layla opened her mouth to speak but the fat prince beat her to it.

"She is helping our mathematicians," the prince shouted, "have you ever seen anyone multiply so fast?" He laughed.

"Is that so?" She knew the way Ptolemy spoke and looked at her sceptically that he was getting at the fact that she really was not here on her own grounds. "Reeled this one in on numbers did you cousin?" Layla was surprised by the way her Ptolemy acted; he threw one arm over the back of his chair and leant back lazily.

"Sure did!" the prince shouted in his usual drunken manner. Ptolemy and Layla knew the prince was not really paying attention to what was going on, the game Ptolemy was playing and it was incredibly dangerous if the prince found out.

"Funny," Ptolemy whispered, talking to his cousin but addressing Layla, "I thought it could be done with words." He smiled at her and she shied away instantly; what was he doing? Talking like that would get them both in trouble.

"Are you not thinking?!" The bug on his shoulder whispered urgently, "do you want her killed too?"

"What was that?" The prince said after a minute.

"I was merely asking where she will stay for the next two days?" Ptolemy asked.

"In her own quarters-"

"She has her own quarters?!" Ptolemy let out a low whistle, "impressive what a woman can do with just her numbers." Layla stared at him open mouthed; he was insinuating that she had seduced the prince, enticed him into letting her come to the palace; why on earth would she do that when it was clear she loved him?

"Alright, alright," the prince said waving a hand at them, "both of you leave, I merely wanted to introduce you to one another." Ptolemy and Layla stood up and he had never seen her so angry. She clenched her fists and left the table without saying goodnight to the princes. Ptolemy ran out after her. He found her storming down a corridor; did she know where she was going?

"Layla!" He whispered urgently, "Layla, stop," he grabbed her arm and pulled her into a deserted side room. When inside she moved her arm violently from his grip.

"What was that about?" She asked him in a dangerous whisper that did not hide her anger. "Why were you talking about like," she searched for the right words, "like I mean nothing to you?" She snapped and was about to walk away when he grabbed her arm again.

"This is how everyone else treats women-"

"That's just," she couldn't think of the word and just hit him instead with her free arm.

"No, Layla, you don't understand," but she hit him again. "Stop for a second!" His hand found it's way to her long hair and pulled it at her scalp. She gasped and looked up at him with frightened eyes.

"You dared hurt me-"

"This pain is nothing to what you made me feel a few hours ago!" He said before releasing her hair. "I said those things because I wanted him to think I detested you; it is what I am known for, disliking the women who fall to their knees for idiots like him!" He said quickly and his grip on her arm grew tighter. "I did it to cover up for the fact that when I look at you," he faltered and Layla nudged him.

"What?" She urged.

"When I look at you I lose myself," he said; it was such a difficult feeling to describe, he hung his head as he realised he couldn't tell her exactly what he felt. Layla put a hand to his face and made him look at her.

"It's too late," she whispered, "he knows," Ptolemy's eyes widened as she continued. "I know of your rivalry; he hates you because you entail everything he could not be and so he brings me here as his own," she grimaced, "_object. _To break you."

"How does he know?"

"I do not know but he referred to our conversation earlier." Ptolemy wiped tears away from Layla's face. "This is a broken dream." She let go of him and he let go of her, she walked away from him.

"It is not broken; it just hasn't begun." She smiled with her back to him and went to the door.

"Stay with me this evening." He said suddenly.

"What?" She gasped and turned back to him.

"Stay in my protection, the prince may come to you and," he didn't need to finish his sentence, Layla knew what he was going to say. He could see the battle going on in her head; it went against all of her morals to come to his room but she felt unsafe in these strange palace walls.

"Alright," she nodded at him after a while and he took her hand. His lips brushed against the skin of her hand and she smiled at him. Before they both opened the door and checked it was clear before Ptolemy ran out of the room, holding Layla's hand tight as they ran through the moonlit corridors to his quarters.

Back in the room a figure slinked out of the shadow. Sabah sighed; perhaps this was a development the prince would like to know.

* * *

Little useless fact for you all- Layla means "born at night" and Sabah means "born in the morning" I chose them and then found out their meanings- freaky coincidence eh?

Also, please don't BartxPtol here because that's SOOO not what I was getting at!

Reviews appreciated!


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello fellow…Ptolemy fans I guess, here's the next thrilling instalment:

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**"This is my bedroom," Ptolemy said softly as he led Layla into his chambers. She looked around in fascination; her room held mere memories of a family of aristocracy but Ptolemy's room was full on random royal treasures that even he did not know existed.

"It's- ah!" She gasped and jumped behind him. He looked over his shoulder to him with an eyebrow raised before he looked in front of him. A servant boy, Greek one it looked, stood in front of them.

"Layla, it's alright; this is Rehkyt, my most trusted servant." He said to her and she peered from behind him to the boy in front who had such a wide smile it unnerved Layla; like he knew something she didn't.

"Hello," she said sweetly and the boy took a step forwards.

"Good evening," he said before looking to Ptolemy with a look, Layla could've sworn, of distaste. Perhaps Ptolemy was very close to this servant; he was his most trusted after all. "Your bed has been ready for you your highness." What a strange relationship they had! Layla saw a look of scepticism cross Ptolemy's face.

"Thank you Rehkyt." He said simply.

"Ptolemy," Layla spoke softly to him and he turned to her. She nodded to the one bed in the room, "where will I sleep?" She asked; evidently that bed was Ptolemy's and so was occupied. Rehkyt was impressed; other girls the prince met would wishfully assume they were to lie in the same bed, but not this one. She was either incredibly modest, incredibly shy or incredibly foolish to pass up the opportunity. Ptolemy seemed to have a similar look; it was one thing he liked about Layla, her modesty. Sure it was a virtue that her father and others had pressed upon her from the day she was born but it was still sweet.

"Oh," the prince said quickly, "you will be sleeping in this room," he went across the room and opened another door. It showed a much smaller room with bed and desk. Layla smiled and nodded. Ptolemy turned back to her and there was something about seeing her, standing in the moonlight, that made his heart stop.

"Ahem." The servant coughed pointedly, making the teenagers jump.

"Goodnight your highness," Layla said and walked past him. As she approached him he stopped her with an arm.

"Goodnight," he said quietly and their eyes locked.

"_Ahem!" _The servant coughed a little louder and they jumped again. She walked into her room and with a quick glance back, shut the door. Ptolemy turned to Rehkyt.

"Did you have to do that?" He sighed in exasperation.

"Oh I'm sorry for saving you from waking up at midday tomorrow when you need to be at meetings just after dawn-"

"I would not have woken up at midday!" Ptolemy protested.

"You two could stare at each other until the end of eternity!" Rehkyt cried, "imagine if I'd left and you got up to other things-"

"Hey," Ptolemy put up a warning finger, "I would not have-"

"Sure, sure." Rehkyt said indifferently and walked to the window. After a few moments he transformed into the magnificent blue and white bird. "Goodnight prince." He flew away.

"Goodnight."

* * *

"Your highness." The fat prince heard his title being said and merely put up a hand from his bed in acknowledgement that he had heard them. "I have news I think you may find useful." It was Sabah; she came to his bed and knelt beside him. He was lying face down on his bed and turned over, blinking in the lamplight she was carrying.

"What is it at this hour?" He said impatiently.

"News of your cousin Ptolemy." She said quickly and suddenly he was attentive.

"Speak quickly, woman." He snapped and she nodded.

"The girl, Layla, went with him to his room this night." The prince's eyes widened. "They talked of things in front of my prying eyes," she whispered, "they are in love-"

"No," he said slowly but Sabah nodded again. "Well, this could be my dearest cousin's downfall." He muttered. "Befriend her," he said suddenly to Sabah who looked uncomprehending, "become Layla's acquaintance at the palace and find out everything about their relationship, everything she knows about Ptolemy." He nodded to himself as a plan formed in his head. "Ha!" He laughed, making the girl jump, "I will destroy my cousin and have Layla for my own!" He said, so thrilled at his plan that he grabbed Sabah's hand as she went to leave. She knew what this meant and put the lamp down. She slipped into the prince's bed with a small smile; he might get Layla but she would surely get Ptolemy.

* * *

"Layla." Ptolemy looked up from his window as her shadow spread across the floor, to see her stood once more in his doorway. Except this time, instead of leaving with a smile, she entered with a tear stained face. She walked up to him silently before he opened his arms to her and she collapsed into his embrace. "What is it?" He asked consolingly and Layla looked at him in earnest.

"I have hidden every sorrow." She whispered to him. "I've laughed off every injustice." She looked around his face as though trying to remember every detail. His eyes softened as she did so; she'd had to hide all these years behind a cage and now she was finally beginning to realise she could be free. "The thorns of roses; I embraced them." Upon saying she put her head on his chest and held him tightly; "but still their petals wounded me. And each time I've raised my hands to prayer it is not to cast away these terrible things." She raised her head to look into his eyes which sparkled in the moonlight. "Each time I have raised my hands in prayer it has not been to beg for my rescue. Each time I have raised my hands in prayer it has been to beg for you. Nothing else!" She said and bowed her head. Ptolemy laughed at her and kissed her forehead.

"Idiot." He said to her and she looked up at him.

"Why-"

"You cry over such matters, you don't even realise; I am already yours." They laughed. "God's help me, I must be a fool; I've fallen in love with an idiot." She laughed at him and hit his chest playfully with a fist. "God's help me," he muttered, suddenly serious. "This girl is like some celestial gift, she plagues my mind and my heart." He said to her softly as she smiled and found she'd become to shy to look at him. "And now she will not look at me," she shook her head and he leant closer, "doesn't she know how that kills me?" Layla finally found the courage to look at him.

"What is it that's happening here?" She asked, gaining his tone of poetic quality. "Why does the earth and the sky," she left his embrace and put her hands on the windowsill, looking out at the starry sky above them, "seem more beautiful than before?" Ptolemy rested a hand on hers and went to stand next to her.

"Perhaps the same reason you seem to me to be like a dream?" He suggested.

"A dream?"

"Like a glowing ray of moonlight? Like a softly spoken poem? Like a candle burning in the temple? All of them different but all of them you are." _(A/N: that's why the story's called "You Are" XD.) _He tilted her chin to look at him.

"Like the beauty of the morning?" She suggested one and he thought about it before nodding, "like winter sunshine, like the essence of all colour!" Ptolemy's eyes narrowed; she was getting good at this. But he'd had enough; he knew this was his only chance to prove to her it was worth the risk. He held up her hand and his lips brushed her skin from her hand, along her arm, to her neck.

"Like this growing feeling of intoxication you are," he whispered to her and he felt her fear at his actions but his grip on her hands reassured her it was alright.

"Ptolemy you are too intoxicated now-" She said hurriedly and pushed him away. All her life she'd been taught one thing; boys do not touch girls until married, so having one so close made her shy. She moved away but he grabbed her waist and pulled her close.

"Intoxicated on what?" He said slowly. "I have not drunk nor smoked, which I don't anyway!" He added quickly as an answer to her questioning look. "You cannot blame me for what _you _do to me." He laughed and she looked up at him seriously.

"I do nothing and yet you act so recklessly, shamefully!" She just realised how much she sounded like her father and laughed.

"There is nothing reckless or shameful about the fact that," he took a deep breath and looked her in the eye, "I love you." He said simply.

"We were strangers three days ago!" She said and he merely raised an eyebrow.

"Just because you are in love with me and are trying to hide it-"

"I am not!" She said, outraged.

"Am not what?" He said quickly, "in love with me or hiding it?" There was a moment of silence. Layla could think of no answer. "You liar," he concluded for her. "Layla!" He said as she pouted at him, "if the God's have it that reincarnation is part of our lives then I will declare it to you now; I will love you in every single one of my next lives. No matter what form, what place, what time. I will love you." Ptolemy had barely finished speaking before Layla had kissed him. He was so surprised he didn't even register their frenzied movements until he fell onto the bed beside Layla.

* * *

**But everyone knows I don't do lemons! So yeah, that's the end of this chapter!**

**Reviews appreciated!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Ok, basically- I leant my books to my cousin so can't look them up for facts about Ptolemy or the other characters etc. So forgive me if I get things wrong! I'd wait to get the books back but that may be a long, long, time!**

**Enjoy!

* * *

**Against a backdrop of stars the Royal Palace of Alexandria stood proud and magnificent as the day the dynasty was established. Everything around the palace was still, even the waters in the courtyards seemed to cease flowing, and the breeze stilled the flowers growing on vines up the palace walls, stretching towards the windows, searching for the sleeping inhabitants. Higher up, to a place where even the flowers could not reach, in a room concealed from the outsider's view by white drapes lining the windows, sat our prince. Cousin of the heir to the throne, Prince Ptolemy sat with a mixed expression of fascination and annoyance. He ran a hand through his hair wearily and leant forwards to scratch out something he had written wrong; working by dim candlelight meant he was prone to making mistakes, especially when he had not slept at all that night. He bit his bottom lip and thought hard about what is was his servant had said to him.

"It is on the seventh plane," Ptolemy jumped backwards and sighed as the bird with blue and white feathers hopped onto his desk. The bird simply held the expression of a raised eyebrow and continued his sentence, "...that the form of our essence does not change." The prince looked to his paper, nodded and began writing. "So, you have resorted to studying in the dead of night." It wasn't a question from the bird, more an accusation.

"You have developed a habit of scaring me," the prince said and avoided the bird's wide eyed stare, "please make your presence known before you speak so loudly."

"Would you like me to spill the scent of sulphur before I speak?" The bird asked and Ptolemy looked up at him in annoyance to his sarcasm. "Or perhaps-" The bird stopped speaking suddenly and looked up towards the princes' bed, it was covered in darkness but he sensed some movement there. "What-"

"So, essence, tell me more!" The prince said quickly but the bird would not listen. With one quick glance at the guilty look on the prince's face, before Ptolemy could react, the bird took flight to the bed. "Rehkyt!" Ptolemy said as loudly as he dared but as he approached the bed he rolled his eyes for the bird simply shook its head. It was perched at the foot of the bed looking to the figure lain there. "Rehkyt?" The prince asked uncertainly, wondering why he had not spoken yet.

"What is it you would like me to say?" The bird asked and Ptolemy blushed; he didn't know his servant could make him feel so guilty. "Well done, you're one step closer to getting her killed?" The bird asked.

"You know I don't want that." The bird looked up; there was a way in which Ptolemy spoke that shocked him. The prince was known for his tolerance, calm nature and kindness. Yet he had spoken to Rehkyt in a harsh tone. Now, the bird did not feel comfortable as a bird anymore, it turned, flew to the centre of the room, to the darkness there. After a few moments, from the darkness stepped a Greek servant boy.

"It's what is going to happen." Bartimaeus said with equal coldness. He folded his arms as the prince did not respond; "you took her to your bed and you know nothing of the consequences?"

"You know I never act without good reason-"

"There is no reason in love." Bartimaeus said sternly. "I know this; I have seen it through the centuries! Name me one man that ever thought straight when a beauty like her was around!" Ptolemy sighed, "exactly!"

"I am thinking perfectly fine." The prince folded his arms too. "I need your help." He said suddenly.

"With?" Bartimaeus was slightly taken aback by the change in conversation but like Ptolemy said; he never acted without good reason. Although Bartimaeus trusted and believed Ptolemy, he knew how weak and foolish men in love were.

"My future, her future, _our _future." Rehkyt smiled; the way his master spoke sometimes, he could hear the leader within him.

"What is your future?" The Greek asked.

"To finish with my books," Ptolemy said with the most certainty he could muster, "with Layla, with you." Both fell silent. The man and demon appraised each other, their eyes locked and they stared for a while into each other's eyes. "You will be there?" The prince asked and Rehkyt bowed his head with a wry smile.

"Till the very end, your highness." Ptolemy nodded in thanks. "And Layla?" Rehkyt nodded to her, "how will she join us?" Ptolemy thought for a moment.

"I will steal her away from the world." He said and Rehkyt smiled.

"Is this plan definite or just an idea?"

"I have to ask her first," Ptolemy clicked his tongue, "she has so many ties to so many people, I'm not sure if she would leave them." The servant raised an eyebrow.

"Not even for you?"

"For me?" The prince thought about it, "If wars were between us she would fight I am sure. If there were a river she would throw the sun higher into the sky to clear it. If-"

"I get the picture."

"But for _herself, _I'm not sure she would do anything." Rehkyt nodded.

"These are dangerous times, prince. We must think carefully-"

"Let us live our lives as normal for a while." The prince said and finally Rehkyt saw he was talking sense, "let us continue with my writing, let Layla stay in the palace for my," both servant and prince shuddered, "cousin." They both contemplated; this seemed like the best idea, for now anyway. "I shall summon you in the morning; there's much work we need to do." Bartimaeus nodded but before transforming once more the prince put a hand up to stop him. "Thank you, Rehkyt." Neither was entirely sure why the prince was thanking him but the servant smiled, became a bird once more and flew through the open window. Once the breeze caused by the fluttering of the bird's wings had left the room Ptolemy went to his desk to retrieve his candle and put it on a table next to the bed before sitting beside her. Layla was sleeping peacefully and he knew he shouldn't wake her but he had to before sunrise. She looked very beautiful when simply sleeping, bathed in candlelight. He sighed and took her hand, all the time wondering if this were really worth the risk. He loved her, he knew that now for definite, but was that any reason to take her away from her family? He looked at her palm and used his finger to trace a hieroglyph onto her skin. "Layla?" He said softly after kissing her palm, she opened her eyes slowly. Upon seeing him she smiled but then her eyes widened.

"Has the sun risen?" She asked urgently and sat up, Ptolemy smiled as she looked around frantically.

"It's a while to go until sunrise," he said softly and she smiled at him.

"You've been awake for a while?" She nodded to his desk where she could see papyrus littered the table top.

"Yes." He had used a tone that evidently showed he had something important to say, he looked down, away from her gaze. The girl lay down once more and pulled the prince down too so she could look him in the eye.

"What is it, prince?" She asked and put a hand to his face to make him look at her, as he had still averted his eyes. Ptolemy did not know what to say, how to explain that their situation was becoming more impossible by the moment. He moved down and rested his head on her stomach; Layla still found it strange that she blushed at things like this.

"You realise, what we have done?" He asked slowly as Layla's hands ran through his hair. Now she knew what was on his mind and she nodded.

"Of course," she smiled, "I do not regret it." Ptolemy nodded and, even though they could not see each other, they could sense there was still some sadness in their eyes, "I guess we have to decide what we do now." The prince needed more time to think, if he went through with the plan that was forming, the plan to elope, he would need to tell her everything. That simply meant explaining why the Greek servant did not act like a servant, why, when they met, the silver tray did not fall easily and why she thought he was talking to himself. It meant explaining to her his writings. He knew she was intelligent, that she would understand. But understanding and acceptance can be very different.

"You go to your room," he said suddenly, "and I will worry about what we do next." Ptolemy knew there was something else they should talk about; Layla had made a very big sacrifice, if anyone ever found out she'd spent the night with him she'd surely be ostracised from society. For Ptolemy it wasn't that much of an issue; he was a member of the royal family, their private affairs were simply brushed over. But here was also the simple fact that he was a man. His head was beginning to hurt; why did he always think so much? "Are you alright?" He asked and she knew what he was thinking.

"I love you," she said simply and shrugged.

"I love you." He said and kissed her stomach before moving up to look at her again. "Now, you must go." He said and helped her out of the tangle of blankets. He smirked slightly as he saw her blush as she put her dress back on so he averted his eyes. "I will see you in the morning perhaps," he said and she nodded.

"Until then," she said as they both stood in the moonlight. They looked at each other uncertainly for a moment. "Goodnight," she said. He opened the door, checked no one was around and with one quick glance at each other, Layla left the room. He watched her slip away into the moonlight corridors, thoughts of their conversations came back to him; was it worth the risk?

* * *

"Tahira!" Layla muttered irritably from beneath her blanket. "How many times must I tell you," she threw the blankets off of her, "not to wake me up unless-" she stopped talking. For a minute she'd thought she was home with Tahira, she'd forgotten she was at the palace. Sabah, the servant girl, stood before her with a smile that may have been welcoming, but her sharp features always made it difficult to tell.

"Unless?" Sabah asked and walked closer to the bed. Layla tilted her head as she watched the way Sabah walked; her hips swayed in a seductive manner, Layla would never dare to walk like that. Strange, she cared about how she walked.

"What?" She asked.

"You said not to wake you up unless…?" Sabah looked at her for an explanation and Layla smiled.

"Unless she brought me warm milk and honey," she shrugged, "she always made it the best." Sabah laughed but again, Layla could not tell if it were in a mocking way.

"Well you'll be eating breakfast with the princes today." She said and from nowhere threw a package onto Layla's bed, making the girl jump.

"_Princes?" _She asked, taking the package in her hands and opening it slowly, but she was too concerned with what Sabah had said, "plural?" Sabah rolled her eyes impatiently and roughly grabbed the package from Layla's hands to open it herself.

"Yes," out of the package Sabah took out a white dress and handed it to Layla who gasped; it was stunning with silver and gold embroidery. "Plural. The new moon is tomorrow and the royal family take meals together today, in preparation for the fast tomorrow." Layla nodded but was still looking at the dress; she would fast tomorrow as well she supposed. "The prince wishes for you to wear this today." Sabah pointed at the dress and began to walk away.

"What?" Layla said in surprise, Sabah turned back and raised an eyebrow. Layla got out of the bed, "it is not that I am not grateful; it's very beautiful…but _I _have done nothing to deserve-" She swallowed as Sabah slinked back to her; there was something about the girl that made Layla uneasy and more aware of her own naivety. The sultry look on Sabah's face was gone and she smiled as she put a hand to Layla's face. Layla almost drew back.

"You are very lucky to be in this position; many girls would love to be in the eye of the prince," she laughed and Layla smiled politely. "Everyone here cares for you a great deal, even I." Somehow Layla found that difficult to believe.

"Why is that?" Layla asked, suddenly aware of how sharp Sabah's nails felt against the flesh of her skin.

"Because I may be serving the next Queen of our empire." Layla sat down on the bed in shock.

"Queen?" She whispered.

"Come now Layla," Sabah said, "you must come to breakfast and choose a partner for the festival tomorrow-"

"Partner for the…Oh, yes." She muttered; there was a ceremony that every boy and girl over the age of 16 were meant to perform together. She doubted she would be the one choosing and as Sabah left, she smiled; would Ptolemy fight for her to be by her side tomorrow night?

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**Yeah so, not much happened, I know, and am sorry! But just wanted to build up for the next chapter and get issues out of the way.**

**Reviews appreciated!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello, sorry it's been a while! I've been busy...with what exactly I don't know, but BUSY. :)**

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Layla arrived to breakfast early and stood outside the hall for a moment; there was just the heir to the throne sat, awaiting everyone and being in his company alone was something she did not want to experience. However, as servants walked by holding vases full of flowers for the festival they raised an eyebrow at her; she was being rude by not going to see the prince. After a few more moments of standing in the sunshine and watching as two birds danced on the branch of a tree, she walked into the hall. It was the same one as last night, a long table with the prince sat at the head. He watched her walk in and nodded to her as she stopped a few feet away and bowed.

"Layla," he said simply and gestured to the chair beside him, she smiled and sat down. He watched her hungrily as she tried to avoid his eyes and as she felt his gaze travel further down her body she pulled the neck of her dress up. He smiled as she did this; she acted so modest but he knew what she was really like. She looked different today as well, she had pinned her hair up but a few curls fell lose, the gold sunlight streamed through her hair and made her eyes glisten. He decided he liked it. Layla glanced to him and smiled politely even though the manner in which he bit his lip made her nervous; why was no one coming for breakfast? "Sleep well?" He asked and she nodded.

"Fine, thank you, your majesty." She said and simply mumbled his title at the end.

"You are aware that tomorrow is the festival?" He asked suddenly and she sat upright in her seat.

"I am," she replied and adjusted her dress once more. "Will his highness be attending the ceremony?" She smirked as a long shadow fell across the floor beside the table and in a lazy fashion the other prince Ptolemy walked in. He walked to the table and without invitation sat down next to his cousin, opposite Layla.

"I shall be," he said and picked up a golden goblet in front of him and drank, out of the corner of his eye he spied her small smile.

"Forgive me, prince," she said smoothly, "I was talking to his highness," she cocked her head towards the son of the King who looked between the two with scrutiny. Layla looked to her Ptolemy who simply yawned at her and her face adorned the look that every woman can do so well, the one that says; "_I'm not impressed." _

"Didn't get much sleep last night cousin?" The prince asked and Ptolemy shut his mouth quickly.

"Books do not write themselves." He responded quickly and there was a moment where the two boys stared at each other with such intense rivalry that Layla was sure one of them would start shouting. Luckily, people began to filter into the room and she stood to greet them, the two princes informed her of the people's titles. She was sat next to a man named Fadil; he was responsible for over-seeing the trading of good between Alexandria and neighbouring cities. As soon as they sat for breakfast the man delved straight into conversation with Layla and she had to look around servants as they came to place food upon the table.

"Of course," he began in a gruff voice, "if the metals were more widely available in these parts we could find ourselves in a better position for war-"

"But we have good resources of ivory," Layla pointed out after thanking a servant for the plate of fruit placed in front of her, "and this has proved harder and more durable than the weapons already used." There was a second where Fadil did not know what to think but eventually he was impressed but before he could continue he was interrupted by the prince.

"War?" He scoffed, "there will be no war." Layla gritted her teeth; the boy was infuriating.

"Your highness," she said sternly and whipped her head around to him, "there are anomic groups forming...around Alexandria," she finished feebly for the prince's stare made her realise she shouldn't get him angry.

"There will be no war." Layla did not know what to say; how could someone deny what was happening right in front of their face? Ptolemy, who had been watching the banter between Layla, the prince and Fadil, grew concerned by Layla's actions; she was far too outspoken. He had to change the conversation, quickly.

"Will you all be taking part in the ceremonies tomorrow?" He asked suddenly and the prince, Layla and Fadil looked over to him slowly. They took a few seconds to realise what he was talking about.

"It is compulsory for every member for the royal family to do so," Fadil said slowly, "as for myself I'm afraid I am too old for such things!" Layla smiled as he looked at her, "and you dear?" She nodded.

"I shall be," she said brightly.

"And your partner?" The elderly man asked with a slight smile.

"I'm afraid I do not know who it shall be," she said and tried very desperately to avoid her Ptolemy's eye for she could feel his gaze burning her.

"It will be my dearest cousin," the prince said, "Ptolemy." Layla's mouth opened and she looked opposite her to see Ptolemy had a similar look of incomprehension; they turned their heads slowly to the prince who laughed at their looks. "Is there a problem?" He asked and the other two shook their heads, trying their hardest not to smile. "Now, Fadil," the prince changed the conversation quickly, "tell me..." But Layla and Ptolemy were not listening any longer for Ptolemy was gesturing with his eyes for them to leave together but Layla simply stared back, unaware of what he was trying to say. Breakfast ended with talks of nothing interesting and as they stood to leave the prince held Ptolemy and Layla back. "Layla," he said and Layla was surprised that he could sound so commanding, "you must have clothes fitted for tomorrow. Ptolemy," the boy's gaze moved grudgingly from Layla to his cousin, "you will take her to the centre of the city." The prince began to walk out, "you know where to." He called back and eventually the room emptied, leaving just Layla and Ptolemy to pretend they were not excited.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked her and she simply looked at him with those eyes and that glance that made his heart skip a beat, before nodding.

"I don't think, prince, you should be the one to escort me in the city today." She said plainly and Ptolemy raised an eyebrow, "you should continue with your studies." She smiled at him, "and not resort to the dead of night for some peace and quiet." She bowed at him and walked away but there was something in that Ptolemy said nothing that made her slow down to wait for him to say something back.

"You and I both know the night is not quiet." He murmured and Layla turned to him sharply.

"Lower your voice!" She said urgently and looked around quickly, luckily no one was around. As she looked down the corridor to ensure they were alone Ptolemy walked up behind her and she could feel him close so stood still and listened to his whisper from behind.

"It's alright." He whispered into her shimmering hair, "I can study later, I have a gift for you." She smiled and, still not looking at him, tried to hide her excitement.

"A gift?" She whispered back and jumped away from him as she felt a slender finger stroke her arm. She turned to him with a look of horror and bashfulness that he'd seen before. He nodded and approached her again, inwardly laughing at how she became so nervous when he was near.

"In the heart of the city." He said and held out his hand to her, "come with me?" She looked into his eyes as though trying to read him before she nodded and put her hand on his. In an instant, the pair fled the palace. Followed by that familiar blue bird that skimmed the skyline as he followed.

* * *

Alexandria was the centre of the world. And in the centre of the centre of the world was a marketplace. The busiest, most expensive, hottest and nosiest place that Layla and the prince had ever visited. On either side of the street were stalls selling all manner of things; from Greek herbs to leopard skins. The buildings lining the street were so different; Opium houses on one side, opposite scholarly shops of papyrus and ink stained books. Layla had been here many times before and so had the prince but, like most things in life, they had experienced the market in very different ways. Layla was used to being dropped at the Bath houses by her father when he went to meetings, leaving her with the women of the marketplace who had taught her the art of bartering, making jewellery and other such things. She was used to being in the middle of the chaos where as the prince was used to standing just on the edge. Brought by a guide, usually Rekhyt by his side, he would never get as close to any of the people or stalls as they were now. In fact, because he had not dressed in his usual tunic and he did not have with him an entourage of palace guards, no one recognised him. Well it was more the fact that they all seemed to be caught up in their own world that they seemed to ignore Ptolemy and Layla. It didn't bother either teenager, for they were outside of the palace and together. The market place had dust and sand surrounding almost everything and so you could just about make out the objects in front of you by the sunlight streaming in through the dust making it look like glitter floating in the air. It was nearing lunchtime as they strolled down a side street, they did not talk for they'd have to shout over the noise anyway. About an hour ago they had purchased Layla's clothes for tomorrow and asked for it to be sent to the palace, now Ptolemy was teasing Layla by taking her all over the place in search for her gift.

"Here?" She pointed to a small stall covered in gems of every colour. Necklaces, earrings and bracelets encrusted with semi-precious stones were laid across the wooden table. The man called out to her and she merely smiled at shook her head at his offers.

"No." Ptolemy said plainly and laughed when Layla looked like she was ready to give up.

"There?" She pointed far off into the distance where Ptolemy could see women walking in and out, men on their arms with smiles of satisfaction.

"Maybe," he replied and she raised an eyebrow.

"That's a brothel." She laughed at the look on his face; evidently he had not travelled that far into the city. "Ptolemy!" She finally gave up, "tell me where it is we are going to!" She hit his arm and as he rubbed the spot she'd hurt he sighed.

"Alright," he too gave up teasing her. "Come with me," he held out his hand and Layla looked around, making sure no one they knew was here, before grasping his hand tightly. As soon as she did they were running through the city's most forgotten streets. The ones that even sunlight did not reach and were illuminated by dazzling streetlights. Ptolemy took her up stairs, through shops, under bridges and all seemed like a blur because they were running so fast. Eventually they stopped. Ptolemy ran into a dead end, turned at the wall and Layla ran into him. They stood, gasping for breath and Ptolemy, who had his hands on Layl's waist to stop her falling when she crashed into him, pulled her closer so the people in the street could walk past the pair. Even though the street seemed to be in the middle of the city's underworld, meaning it was not seen by the aristocrats, or royal family, or pretty much anyone in the city, it was still busy. Everyone here seemed more laid back that anywhere else and even though there was an air of laziness about the place everyone was rushing to different places.

"Where is this place?" Layla asked, looking slightly apprehensive as she could smell something like alcohol on the Egyptian air.

"It's where your gift is." He said to her and smiled at her growing anxiety as she looked to the people in the street. "You will be safe with me." He said and looked up to catch the shadow of a bird dart away from his eye. "Come here." He took her hand and lead her to some stone stairs, they were the colour of her skin and lead to a white drape, blocking view from what was inside. Ptolemy held out a hand and pulled back the curtain to reveal an old man, sat by him at a table. There was nothing else in the small room apart from the man, the pages he was reading and the table. Was he meant to be her gift? She looked to Ptolemy who sensed she was going to speak and so put a finger to his lips.

"Amun," the prince said quietly and the old man looked around to them. He took a moment to focus his eyes before smiling at the pair and standing up.

"Your highness," he nodded his head to Ptolemy before glancing at Layla. "She is pretty." He said quietly and laughed as she blushed and held tighter to Ptolemy's hand. "Well, I suppose you can go through." He said and went to a door, which Layla had not seen for it was the same colour as the walls and you could just about make out the small outline of the door if you looked closely. Amun pushed the door open and stood aside for Layla and Ptolemy. The prince pushed Layla forward and she tentatively walked through the door, Ptolemy followed after thanking the man.

"What is this place?" Layla whispered as she looked around in awe. The room was quite large, oil lamps were lit at every corner and on the table in the centre. Lining the walls were shelves with hundreds, perhaps even thousands of small bottles full of pale coloured liquids that glistened in the lamplight. She could see they were all labelled but could not make out the hieroglyphics from so far away. Ptolemy came to stand next to her and looked around with her but gave no answers. She saw him glance to the table and so looked as well and could now see that next to the lamp there was a bottle. She walked up to it and saw her name on a piece of papyrus next to the bottle. She picked it up. This bottle was far more beautiful than any of the ones on the shelves; the glass was tinted the colour of pale gold you find at sunset and a ribbon of gold had been painted along the curves of the glass bottle which made it look like it had been twisted. The lid was like a fragile, glass leaf, the same colour as the bottle and she opened it to see it was empty but it was the lid that told her what it as. The lid had a small glass rod attached to it that extended into the bottle; there was only one use for it. She turned slowly to Ptolemy.

"This place," she gestured to it, "is a perfumery?" He nodded. "This is my gift," she held the bottle to him, "perfume?" He nodded again and smiled as she became excited. "I am allowed to choose the essence of the fragrance?" She indicated the bottles on the shelf.

"Yes." He said and walked over to her.

"This is a wonderful gift." She smiled at him, "but," he titled her chin towards him with his hand, "why?" She asked and put the bottle to the table to embrace him.

"Because," he muffled into her hair, "there are no words in any language that I can use to describe what you do to me." She moved her head up to look at him and he smoothed hair away from her face; "if I even were to say that no creature as beautiful as you existed, I would be no way near your magnificence." She smiled and kissed his forehead.

"That's still not an explanation." She said and walked away from him. He watched her walk away and shook his head as she looked back to him and then looking away quickly.

"There is something mischievous about your glance" he said slowly and watched as her finger traced the labels of bottles on the shelves. "And something wonderful in your grace," he whispered and could tell she was only pretending not to listen. Her footsteps echoed on the stones beneath them and he ran a hand through his hair, trying to be enticed by her stubbornness. She came and put a bottle down on the table, he read the hieroglyphs; it was the fragrance of the Jasmine flower. "Your beauty shines behind you like some star in the sky," he sat on the table and watched her still. "From your radiance they became aware of moonlight," she turned to him quickly, walked over and sat on her knees in front of him.

"Go on." She said with fake vanity and Ptolemy soon got rid of this by leaning forwards and blowing a strand of hair from her neck, making her nervous.

"Such beautiful moonlight." He murmured and sat up straight again but still she sat, prepared to listen to everything he had to say. "If I even were to say that this splendour cannot and will not be found anywhere, I would still be no where near your magnificence." He stopped and gulped as she stood up in a far more seductive manner than he had ever seen her do and she leant forwards to him.

"There is a shower of colour that seeps from you," she whispered, "why ask for perfume when you alone are a delicious fragrance?" Now Ptolemy was leaning quite far back as Layla leant into him, "in the heart plays a melody I have never heard; it is as though all the stars in the sky belong to me," the prince gave in first and kissed Layla's forehead.

"Moon of mine," he whispered to her closed eyes how do I tell you how much I love you?" She laughed and went close to his lips before-

"Layla!?" They whipped their head's round to the secret door. It had been her father's voice.

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Reviews appreciated!


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry I've been away so long! I'll try and update more regularly!

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**"Layla?" They heard again and Layla jumped away from the prince and stared at the door. Ptolemy stood up next to her and saw she was paralyzed with fear; her bottom lip trembled and her eyes were glazed over with unshed tears. "What do you mean?" Layla quickly looked to Ptolemy who looked just as confused; it seemed her father was conversing with Amun. The prince went to walk to the door but as he took a step in front of her, Layla grabbed his wrist and held tightly, he glanced back but she kept peering at the door as though it was going to open any moment now and her father would take her away. The prince thought for a moment before kissing her forehead, it seemed to break her from her trance. He went to move again.

"Prince," she held him back again, "please," was all she could say until her brow furrowed and she bit her lip to stop it quivering. But the way he looked at her, with such certainty and determination, that she knew he would not let anything happen to them. She dropped his hand and Ptolemy walked quietly to the door. He didn't even have to lean against the stone when he heard a shout come again.

"Layla is safe!" Came her father's voice.

"Lower your voice!" Amun's usually carefree tone was lifted and replaced with a harshness the prince never thought he was capable of.

"There are groups forming around the outskirts of the city," he continued in a dramatic whisper that enabled Ptolemy to hear everything. "Keeping her in the palace is the best place for her! Besides, the prince is insistent that she stays-"

"The Prince?" Amun laughed, "The prince is a fool, why do you think there are talks of rebellion? By keeping Layla in the palace you are making her a target for these anarchists?" There were a few heartbeats lost in silence.

"I will not hear another word damning our royal family," Layla's father spoke once more, "but, I see you are talking sense, Amun." Ptolemy sighed; at least her father was not an irrational man. "I will take Layla from the Palace, from the city." Ptolemy's heart faltered; from the city meant away from him! But she was safer outside these walls; he could not be so selfish when it came to a matter of her life. "Keep your ears open for any more news from the West coast, I fear they may attack first. Good day," and with that, Ptolemy heard her father leave the little shop. The Prince, who had been listening so intently, he had not noticed Layla was stood behind him at the door. He turned to her slowly as he heard her soft breathing.

"Don't," she whispered.

"Layla, please-"

"Don't you dare." She raised her voice.

"You will be safe-"

"Will you not protect me?" She asked quickly and the prince's beautiful brown eyes softened.

"Of course I would," he murmured, "but this is war and I am no warrior, I'm a scholar." He spoke over her as she began to speak again and took her hands in his, "I will most likely be forced to another country." For some reason, the way those green eyes became emeralds when tears entered them, Ptolemy could not deny that the thought of being without her made his heart ache. "Give me time to think." He begged her. "I will not lose you." He said and dropped her hands to hold her face. "Layla," he rested his forehead against her and they closed their eyes, "you and only you make me feel as though I am alive." He whispered and the beginnings of a smile were forming on her lips. "Time is all I ask for."

"I love you," she whispered in return, "these three words contain my very life." Ptolemy smiled and put a straying wisp of Layla's hair behind her ear. "In all my time of Earth, you are the only one I will let hear these words." She sighed and her brow became knitted with worry as she decided, "I give you as much time as you need, my prince." They moved apart and simply stared at each other, wondering how they ended up falling in love with someone so wonderful.

"We have to get back to the palace as soon as we can," Ptolemy said and Layla nodded and placed a veil on her head and pulled it down to cover her face. There was something strangely seductive in the way her eyes shimmered in the darkness of her hood and Ptolemy tried to remember what they had been talking about. "Right," he exclaimed, realizing he had stared at her too long. They looked back to the empty perfume bottle on the table. "Another day," he answered and led her out of the secret room, away from the forgotten shop, to the heart of the city and back to the great palace.

* * *

As soon as Ptolemy and Layla stepped onto the marble pathways of the palace, they were both called to different places. Ptolemy was called to the libraries as he was told a scholar was waiting to converse with him. Layla was, regrettably, summoned by the prince. At the palace doors they gave secret goodbyes through coy looks and Ptolemy looked up to the sky and with one word the blue-feathered bird followed the girl.

* * *

Layla adored the palace, with its marble floors and great stone pillars that seemed to be the symbol of the foundations holding up their empire. A light breeze always ruffled the drapes from Greece that lined the corridors and everywhere flowers and fountains seemed to adorn the floors and walls. It was indeed a magnificent place and, apart from her dearest Ptolemy, it was the other only reason she enjoyed being here. Her smile faded, as she had not realized she had already reached the Prince's study. The doors before her were wooden, painted a light blue with jewel-encrusted flowers framing the archway. Servants opened the doors and Layla stepped tentatively into the room.

"Ah, Layla." The fat prince said loudly. The girl was not listening; she was amazed by the prince's study. It was a circular room, bookshelves, portraits of emperors and empresses lines the walls and in the center of the beige-stone floor was a globe. It was solid gold with the countries and nations outlined in silver; those that made up the empire were made of red gold. The sunlight streamed in through slits in the walls, illuminating the globe and being reflected by it. "Layla?" The prince called again and she jumped out of her stupor.

"Yes, your highness?" She called and looked around; she could not see the prince anywhere. She walked around the golden globe, marveling at it and taking in its delicate beauty, once she had done this she saw the prince had simply been hidden from her view. He was sat at a desk behind the globe and as she saw him, she smiled and bowed. She remained with her head bowed, as it was not polite to do otherwise until told.

"You got what it was you wanted?" He enquired and Layla spied him sitting lazily at a desk, there was no papyrus in front of him; he had not been working at all.

"Yes, prince." She said and stood up straight once more. There were a few painful moments of silence in which Layla did not look at him but sensed his hungry glare engulf her.

"My cousin, Ptolemaeus," Layla smirked at the use of his full name, "how do you find him?" She was surprised by the question and the prince could see this from the way her attention went to him as soon as he had asked. She shrugged.

"He is very learned," she said nonchalantly, "a virtuous and noble man." She stopped and thought about what else to say before she decided saying too much may look inappropriate and so was quiet.

"You have talked with him?" The fat prince asked and Layla inwardly rolled her eyes; she had been with Ptolemy the whole morning, of course they had talked!

"Yes." She said stiffly.

"About?"

"The empire, trade, the city, philosophy, art…." Her words faded as she saw the smile on his fat face broaden. "He is a man of few words." She said and knew this was not true of her Ptolemy but guessed, correctly, that this is what the prince wanted to hear. "His ideas are simply retellings of old tales," she added and the prince nodded. "But otherwise he is a fine asset to the royal household." That was perfectly diplomatic, wasn't it? She gave compliments and criticisms so no one could deduce her actual feelings towards the boy. The prince sat, slumped in his throne, listening intently to her and nodding as she spoke.

"I am glad you think these things." He muttered and suddenly sat up straight. "Now, I think Sabah wishes to speak with you." As soon as he said this, to Layla's surprise, out of the shadows slinked the figure of Sabah. As the girl began to talk to Layla about what was going to happen tomorrow and the preparation for it, the prince watched them walk away from him and smiled, completely unaware of the other prince's meeting in the libraries.

* * *

_-Alexandria Palace Libraries-_

Ptolemy entered a place Bartimaeus referred to as "home," he had called it this since they had practically lived here for a few months last year. It was always good to be back and as he walked though he took a deep breath and smelt the papyrus and ink. It was a shame Bartimaeus was not here; he liked to pore through books and marvel at the unintelligent ramblings of humans. Ptolemy had been called to his private room in the library and this way he knew it was someone he was close with; no one else was allowed to enter that place. No one was in the libraries, in fact no one was in the palace today, everyone was in the city preparing for tomorrow. So Ptolemy was able to make his way swiftly to the room at the far end. He pushed through discarded chairs and picked up some books that had fallen from tables, on the way. He reached the door to his private study and put a hand against the sun-warmed wood and pushed it open.

The room was more of a corridor; Ptolemy had asked for so many shelves full of books that the room had become narrowed as it sacrificed its space. There were also three desks, and, many outsiders that had peered in had wondered why, there was more than one chair. They only ever saw Ptolemy go in so what was the need for more chairs? And blocking most of the light from the narrow window at the end of the room was the figure of the man he was meant to meet. The man was cloaked and hooded, strange as the heat outside was almost unbearable and the prince was beginning to wish he had told Rekhyt to come with him. The man turned around and raised his hand, as he did so the door behind Ptolemy closed. The prince was aware that this could only be magic and turned quickly to the man, already drawing symbols in the air with his hands, ready to summon a djinni.

"No, your highness," the man held up a hand to stop him and the voice was so familiar that the prince's hands fell and the stranger lowered his hood.

"Khai?" Ptolemy whispered as he took in the tall man's ragged clothes and tired face. He had long, dark brown hair, which was already graying, and many scars on his face, souvenirs of his time spent in battle. The man had dark grey eyes and this contrasted alarmingly with his tanned skin.

"Prince," the man bowed with a small smile but Ptolemy was not smiling.

"What are you doing here?" Ptolemy had known Khai for a few years now; Khai had been involved in security around the palace but since the death of Ptolemy's father, whom he was most close with, he had fled the palace, fearing assassination. He had since become a rogue, roaming the cities neighboring Alexandria and on his last night in the palace he had sworn to the prince that he would not return.

"I bring news from Tanis," he said quickly in a rasping voice and pulled his cloak around himself tighter. "There will be an attack on the palace, three days from now." Ptolemy nodded, he did not ask questions for there was no need; he trusted Khai with his life. "You must flee to another place-"

"It's not so simple-"

"Take her with you!" Khai said to Ptolemy's surprise.

"How did you know?" Ptolemy's immediate thought was that they were being followed and he knew this could not be seeing as Rekhyt was with them, well most of the time anyway.

"You must stop smiling when no one is around," Khai explained with a slight smirk, "you must not turn your head every time wind blows the fragrance of the jasmine flower to you," Ptolemy found himself blushing under this analysis, "you must not sigh in that way lovers do." Ptolemy shook his head and tried to steer the conversation elsewhere.

"You have been following me?"

"I have been ever since talk of rebellion," the rogue walked towards the prince and took him by the shoulders as though to reassure him and the man marveled at how much Ptolemy had grown since he was a child. "With this happening your cousin will surely make you meet your end-"

"Then what do you propose I do?" The prince asked.

"I will meet you tomorrow, three hours after the moon is spotted, on the roof of your quarters-"

"Tomorrow?!" Ptolemy shouted and immediately lowered his voice, "that's not enough time!" The prince looked to the floor as he thought and Khai shook him slightly so he would look up.

"I promised your father that I would ensure your safety and I will stay with my word." His hands dropped from Ptolemy's shoulder and he put a large, bandaged hand on the prince's head. "You've changed a great deal since I last saw you." He murmured and Ptolemy smiled.

"It's been years. This is quite a reunion." Before he had finished his sentence, Khai had walked past him and opened the door.

"Tomorrow night I will wait for you both." He was about to leave when he turned back to the prince. "How is she?" He said in an almost bashful tone.

"There are no words that would come close to how wonderful or celestial she is." Ptolemy said truthfully and Khai smiled.

"I should hope so." And with that, the rogue vanished from the libraries. Leaving the prince to his thoughts, to wonder what on Earth he was going to do. He continued to think until another thought crossed his mind; Rekhyt and Layla had been gone for a long time. And then the most nerve racking thought came to him; what if Layla discovered the Djinni's true identity?

* * *

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